


lord of the dance

by galaxyeyedrops



Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 00:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15785184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyeyedrops/pseuds/galaxyeyedrops
Summary: In August, Igor grants him the power to turn his personas into physical weapons.





	lord of the dance

It's August.

Sweat drips from Ren's brow as he leaves Shibuya Station. The weatherman said something about a record breaking heat wave, pointing at different warm toned spots on the map in turn. Yellows grew more orange as he focused on more urban areas; certain prefectures lit up with a bright, bright red.

For that reason, he's opted out of bringing Morgana on this specific excursion—his teammate was already working overtime carrying them through the even harsher environment of Futaba's mind. If he was awake, he probably would have pushed Ren into taking him along, stuffy bag and all, in his adorable childishly arrogant way that Ren couldn't help but love.

Currently, he's stretched out, each limb pressing into a different part of Ren's pillow, snoring lightly. The fan should be running. Ren remembers setting it on low before he left, hopefully giving his friend some relief.

Iwai’s store is a short walk from the station and Ren is there within minutes. He peeks in before he enters, a habit gained through his extracurricular activities—a good one, he has to admit—as Akechi Goro comes into view.

Ren ducks into the Velvet Room, thankfully nearby.

 

Only when his casual clothes transform into prisoner's stripes, does he breathe a sigh of relief. From his pose, the deliberately stiff way Akechi held himself, Ren doubts that the detective was there to do some shopping. More likely than not, the other was tracking down the treasures the Phantom Thieves sold, looking for any leads along the way.

And while Ren isn't exactly counting on Iwai to take their identities to the grave (there is no way the man doesn't at least suspect), but he does expect him to be as difficult with law enforcement as possible. And given his experience with well-crafted replicas, that should be enough to keep the cops off Ren's back.

Caroline clears her throat, interrupting his thoughts.

“Are you going to space out forever, inmate? You _did_ come here for a reason?”

She strikes the bars of his cell with her baton testily; the sound echoes through the room. It’s only through experience that Ren does not flinch.

“Leave him,” Igor says. The twins rush to comply, back at his side within seconds.

His gaze does not leave Ren's all the while, bug-like eyes peering behind an equally inhuman nose.

“Your rehabilitation is progressing well,” he states. “As such, the Velvet Room will offer a new service as assistance.”

Ren does not go to Iwai's shop that day. He runs back to LeBlanc as soon as the demonstration is over. The café is empty; the bathroom similar. He vomits once, heaves twice.

The Boss leaves a bottle of ibuprofen for him at the counter.

 

* * *

 

Ann loves her new weapon. She loves it the way she never loved her costume, posing with it—a smile stretched across her face. Letting the delicate edges slip through her fingers.

“It's beautiful.” Akechi tells him. He smiles too, just as dazzling, nowhere near as honest. His words convey not simple appreciation, layered with double, triple meanings that make Ren's head spin if he thinks too hard on them.

“It's from my persona,” Ren says, pretending to ignore how Akechi perks up at the information. “ The others told you about that special room right? The one I go to wherever I space out?  They do more than just give me stronger ones.”

“Hmm.” Akechi brings a hand up to his chin. His thumb pressed to his lip; Ren unconsciously following the gesture. “How would you say this works exactly?”

Ren shrugs. “Well, you know...Metaverse…”

Akechi's eyes grow sharper. “Humor me,” he says.

And Ren's not sure why he starts. He's not much of a talker, least off all with Akechi, around whom he's been stepping on eggshells for months—but he does. He describes the process in graphic detail. From the way the persona was smothered with a sheet, to how it convulsed and struggled as the twins increased the voltage.

Akechi listens, face carefully blank. He does not comment until Ren is done. “So the personas?” he asks. “They’re gone now?”

“I can always summon them again.” Ren says, this time neglecting to mention that gnawing, hollow feeling that stuck around for days. How, whenever he reached inside of himself— more often than not—he was met with nothing.

Not that Ren needs to. In the moments where he is not blinded by arrogance, Akechi is incredibly perceptive.

 

* * *

 

While Ren's never been the smartest boy in class, nor the strongest—his memory was by far, the sharpest. When the class hamster disappeared, Ren remembered who put it back in it's cage last. When Akechi Goro, handsome celebrity, called him interesting, Ren remembered. When he wheezed out his last request, that smooth practiced cadence failing him as death approached, Ren remembered.

It isn't perfect. Shock and trauma made his first meeting with Shido hazy. But since then, Ren's been sharpening it even further still, his enhanced observational working wonders.

Metatron accepts his death faster than the other personas. His body seizes at the first shock, but remains still for the rest. Smaller and smaller he becomes, until a weapon sits in his place.

Ren reaches out for it. His fingers runs over the extra long barrel, the wings, the trigger. In one motion, he can get justice for them both.

 

* * *

 

Prison is, in one word, awful. The center boasts high incarceration rates; the staff refined its balancing act, between dull and dehumanizing, down to an art.

Methodically, they take away everything important—make him jump through hoops, granting absolutely no privacy all the while, for anything necessary.

What he has left is this: books. Ren isn't allowed to leave his cell, but he's allowed to ask for a couple from the library. They grant him one, every two weeks, making him etch the long winded explanations onto his brain before they allow another.

Ren wades through the legal section at first, and when his frustrations hit their peak—when he realizes there is nothing for him to do but rot—he switches to world religions.

Metatron, the voice of the Christian God, calls out to him through the pages. Descriptions of Shiva, the god portrayed in the Nataraja image soon take his place.

He catalogues his memories every night before he goes to bed. A reminder that he's still fighting; motivation, he's made it through so much already. Among them: time spent with his friends, the rush of accomplishment upon successfully reforming someone, the weight of a gun in his hands—turned against its fashioner, thrumming with the feelings of the boy he twisted.

 

* * *

 

Akechi returns that February. The thirteenth, to be exact. Ren is back from the detention center; Morgana back from death.

Futaba is berating the latter, pinching both of his cheeks when the bell rings. “We're closed!” Makoto calls out. She turns to face their new arrival—and stops dead in her tracks.

“That's a pity,” their former enemy says. “It's been a while since I've had a good cup.”

Ryuji's reaction, while delayed, is as loud as expected. “What the hell? You're alive!?”

Seconds later, Morgana: “You planned to upstage me, huh?”

The room breaks out into chaos. Ren smiles and leans back.

 

The next day, Akechi visits LeBlanc again. A box of chocolates, store bought and fancy, held tightly in his grasp.

**Author's Note:**

> kinda messy, i wrote this with zero sleep. will edit later maybe.


End file.
